


Let Me Tell It

by LoneWanderess



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Awkward Romance, Clumsy SS, F/M, Hero Worship, Humor, Jealousy, Longing, Love lost and found, Regret, Romance, naivete, narrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:47:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneWanderess/pseuds/LoneWanderess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is told by Deacon, so we'll have a nice clear picture of his messed up thoughts, self hatred, and comedic relief. It will cover the changing relationship between Female SS and everyone's favourite Railroad agent. It will be happier than my last fic; I will try to not make anyone cry this time!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is told by Deacon, so we'll have a nice clear picture of his messed up thoughts, self hatred, and comedic relief. It will cover the changing relationship between Female SS and everyone's favourite Railroad agent. It will be happier than my last fic; I will try to not make anyone cry this time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon is convinced to tell the story of his relationship with the Commonwealth's favourite vault dweller, and he begins his story with watching her emerge from vault 111.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have this thing where I can hear Deacon's hilarious voice inflections, so I'm putting them in italics for you.

It's been a long few months, and I just happened to stumble into the Third Rail-- the place she used to frequent on occasion. Now, I know I've had a bit too much to drink, but I can't help myself. When White Chapel Charlie asks for a tale about our wholesome hero for his newest clientele, I _kind of_ feel obliged to tell one. Or a few. Hell, I don't mind to sit here and tell you all the deets. Deak with deets. Huh. Truth is, his accent _is_ pretty sexy, for a robot serving drinks at 4am. When we're already half tanked.

Anyhoo, you want a story about how the Commonwealth was saved, about how we all learned to get along, sit in a circle and sing kumbaya. Maybe you want me to tell the story about how she single handedly took out a den of supermutants with pet deathclaws, tearing their heads off with her bare hands. Or a story on how her bravery rivaled that any military leader, and how her grace was unmatched by any old world pinup girl.

Well, this ain't it.

I guess you could say it's a killer story on how a shy vault dweller and a liar fell in love. Well, ex-vault dweller and ex-liar. And maybe she didn't save the Commonwealth. Maybe the Commonwealth saved her. But in any event, grab another Gwinnet, pull up a chair, and listen up. There will be a pop quiz at the end, and if you're lucky I'll sign autographs.  So no interrupting, because I'm not going to repeat myself at any point - I mean, I'm a narcissist, but this is a _really_ long story. It doesn't happen often, but I _might_ even get tired of my own voice.

So, yeah. Really long story about how a not-so-courageous, clumsy, and hopeless pre-war relic met and seduced yours truly. I knew when I first laid eyes on Sole that she was a winner. And I might have been watching longer than I'll ever admit, if it ever comes up in conversation. She stumbled - literally stumbled - out of vault one eleven right when I had been doing a recon mission in the area. Of course, she didn't know that. I watched her lay her eyes for the first time on the _beautiful_ landscape (ahem, sarcasm) that we dare to call home. I watched her kind of have a meltdown on the platform to the vault. I mean, if innocence had a life cycle, she would have been an infant then. She was dressed in a vault suit of course, that familiar, ugly royal blue we're _so_ fond of, her hair a mess and she was shaking. She looked like she had faced off with a death claw then, but I guess in reality it had been a few rad roaches. She _really_ likes to exaggerate.

So yeah, where was I? Stumbling. She stumbled off the platform. Right. She stepped off it and tripped right over the first skeleton she happened to find in her path. I sorta just rolled my eyes at the time, I mean shit. Most people know to be aware of their surroundings right? So I just rolled my eyes and tried to keep from bursting out laughing when she landed right on her face. Ok, not on her face, it was her knee, but you get my point. She tore her pristine vault suit, which at the time, I had thought was weird, because one: nothing nowadays is ever that clean; and two: she actually hissed like she was in pain. It was actually pretty cute. 

I couldn't watch her for too long that first time, what with actual important things to do, so I just gave my head a shake while she bent over to check her knees, admired her pristine, prewar ass for a sec, and high tailed it the hell outta there. I didn't think much about her at first, but it started to bother me after a few days. Vault one eleven was supposed to be a dead zone, and I mean that pretty literally. So what the hell was she doing there? Where'd she come from?

It wasn't until a few days later that I figured out a few more facts about our unlikely heroine, so I had the thoughts of a puzzled infiltrator to accompany the image of the perfect, rounded backside. Tsk, yup. She was hot, and I lost plenty of sleep those first few nights, and not for the reasons you might think, you pervs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left!


	2. Chapter 2

The second time I saw her was in Diamond City. The 'great green jewel of the Commonwealth .' Now that I think about it, I don't really get why they ever decided on that slogan. I mean, it's just horrible. Sure, it's painted green. Sure it's a diamond shape, which _could_ also be seen as a square. It's nowhere near a jewel if you ask me; a run-down, overcrowded settlement that has strict rules about inclusion and guards that wear prewar sports costumes. Really, a jewel would be a place like vault 81 maybe. Clean, educated, mostly rational. _Anyways_ , I'm getting off topic. Diamond City.

I was sitting in front of the noodle bar -- the only decent establishment in the wastes, by the way -- humoring Takahashi as he rambled in a prewar language I've never had the pleasure of adopting. It can be pretty funny when you're asking philosophical questions about the meaning of life and he's answering in a way you could never _hope_ to understand. Then again, I've been told he's only trying to convince me to buy more noodles. My point is, I had a clear view of her when she came down the steps into the city with that loudmouth reporter, Piper. Not that I have anything against her, but the woman doesn't exactly scream subtle.

So I followed Sole around for a bit -- from a distance of course. I watched as she got the run down of the Institute problem, watched the horror on her face when they told her. I was even more surprised when she actually went on to see Nicky. Nick's a great guy of course, but not too many people would be seen with a prototype gen-1 synth. The stigma is a bit much. Back then, no one wanted to be seen as a sympathizer, they'd be burned at the proverbial stake for that. Guilty of being a synth by association. Most folks went to Nick in private, avoiding the prying eyes of their neighbours, even when people started to go missing

I had heard a conversation where the guards spilled the beans: she was looking for her son, who had been kidnapped, most likely by the Institute. It sped my heart up a little bit, I'll admit, to think that she was a good candidate for the Railroad then. A good reason for revenge, a general acceptance of synths, and that _fine_ , round bottom. I wouldn't mind watching _that_ while she put a few bullets into our enemies. Or any other time, really. 

She slipped out, without my noticing at first. I had to actually _use_ the tracking skills I'd honed to find her. She was wandering around the Commonwealth, following the fading line of painted red stone. I got pretty excited then, hoping beyond hope she would give me another story to tell, so I followed her. No luck, she was distracted by a gang of muties who she mercilessly took down with her canine companion, one of the few dogs I'd seen in the wastes that wasn't completely mutated into a grotesque looking, fur-less, four legged mass of teeth.The dog was more help than I thought he would be, holding the muties down while she placed a fluke shot to their ugly green heads. It was beautiful. The best part? When it was over, she wiped her face, and the blood of the dead smeared across her cheek. I don't know if it was done purposely or not, but it was _badass_.

I followed her once again to Diamond City where she settled onto a stool outside of the noodle bar and sat quietly for a minute before trying to order a beer. She tried, in vain, to understand Takahashi as the robot repeated the same phrase to her, over and over again. I had a quick laugh at her expense, I'll admit, but she shot up an eyebrow in my direction, challenging me to say a word. I scooted closer, pulling out a bottle I had procured earlier, uncapped it with my teeth and gave it to her. In hindsight, it was a terrible idea. I chipped a molar, and there aren't exactly many dentists floating around the 'Wealth. 

"I'm guessing that you're new around here," I smirked, pushing my sunglasses up high on the bridge of my nose. Her hazel eyes seemed to stare right into me, and it made me damn uncomfortable. 

"Why do you say that?" She asked, returning my grin. "Am I the only person around here that doesn't speak Japanese or something?"

"Huh. So that's what it is." I said back. Takahashi repeated his mantra, and I ordered two rounds of noodles. Hey, I'm a gentleman sometimes -- ask anyone, they'll tell you. And noodles, right to a woman'so heart. "Takahashi only understands noodle orders. So if he's talking to you, the only acceptable answers are 'yes', an indication of how many orders you want, or nothing at all." 

She nodded in understanding, pulling out a few caps to pay for her dinner, but I pushed them back to her before the hot bowl of noodles was placed in front of her. 

"My treat," I told her, turning to my bowl of noodles, but watching her out of the corner of my eye. "So what brings you to Diamond City?" She watched me carefully, almost trying to discern whether or not I was flirting with her. I mean, I  _was,_ but that's besides the point. Mostly I was testing her, trying to pry out her motivations, her reactions, her character.

"I heard it was a great place to stock up on supplies." She lied. If I didn't already know she was lying, I might have believed her.

"Is that so?" I asked, keeping a pleasant tone that bordered on playful.  This was one of those times I was grateful for my sunglasses. I'm a _really_ shitty poker player most of the time. She would have seen the excitement in my eyes, clear as day. Before I could give anything away, I paid Takahashi, flashed her a winning smile and left Diamond City.

I really was excited, and again you pervs, not for those reasons. Here was a hot prewar relic, who stirred all kinds of emotions in me with just a look. She wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirty, had a rapport already with a synth, and could lie without skipping a beat. And she was already looking for the Railroad, though I don't think she knew what to expect at the time. She was a bit naive, but a few months in the 'Wealth and that would be old news.

At least that's what I thought. Man, was I wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon had been watching Sole for a while, but now he finally gets to meet her on his terms.

I had given up on the idea of her finding us after a few weeks. I'd been hearing some pretty interesting stories about her, namely her impressive feats in taking out raiders, supermutants and ferals. Life went back to normal.  Well, as normal as it could be for an underground agent rescuing synths from an oppressive, zealous organization. I had long since beaten the record for most synths escorted to freedom, but you know, I keep pushing the envelope because I can't have someone else topping my high score. That's why I'm the best, but _this_ girl, this vault dweller...she could give me a run for my money. If we ever got the chance to recruit her. Which, like I said, was looking  _pretty_ unlikely.

So when Drummer Boy frantically woke me during one of my coveted and rare naps, I was a little perturbed, that is, until he started whispering, "someone's coming, get up!" My heart was beating as fast as a stingwing's buzzing wings, and I was unsure if it was excitement for her unexpected appearance or fear of another attack. The entire crew gathered out in the main entrance of HQ, and I dramatically flipped on the oppressive, blinding fluorescent lights. 

I listened to the exchange between Sole and Dez, wincing at the venom in Dez's tone as she addressed the meek and naive visitor, hoping beyond hope that her sharp words weren't enough to drive Sole away. While it seemed she was holding her own against our intrepid leader -- stance straight and confident, eyes fiery and determined -- I really needed Dez to  _not_ shoot her. It was then that I stepped in and vouched for Sole, telling Dez of her (exaggerated) heroic tales of bravery, skill, and ruthlessness. Both Sole and Dez cocked an eyebrow at my bold assertions that the Railroad _needed_  her. Dez had never heard me vouch for someone so strongly. Sole... well, let's just say she was either _very_ impressed at my intel, very wary of the blatant lie, or very curious as to how long I'd been silently watching her. She never did admit to which it was.  Finally, Dez relented her questions about synth loyalty, and we brought Miss Muffin into our own little slice of heaven that was HQ.

I hung back and watched Sole interact with each of our agents, looking for personality clues or other information we may need later on. After all, being a hottie didn't make her automatically trustworthy. I've seen plenty of people crack under pressure, and I needed to make sure we were safe from whatever had befallen Switchboard. Dez approached me quietly, watching me observe Sole with a blank stare.

"I'm assigning you to be her partner, Deacon," she whispered, and my eyes snapped to hers, silently protesting. "I know what you're thinking, but we don't have options to do otherwise. She isn't familiar with our operations, so I can't assign her to Glory. We can't take that risk. You, on the other hand, your job is starting out of the limelight. You can teach her the ropes, show her what we're about. When she's trained and I'm confident she can hold her own, I'll put her with Glory."

"Dez," I whined. "I get what you're doing, but you know I fly solo, we've had nothing but trouble when you stick me with someone; they tend to not make it very far in this business. My job is recon, intel-- not babysitting."

"Oh, that's right. It's your fault when agents can't handle things and freak out, I forgot. Listen, this isn't up for negotiation. Give her a chance; get to know her, let her get to know us. Train her, turn her from," she gestured vaguely to Sole, " _that_ into a Railroad powerhouse. I'm serious, Deacon. I let her in because you vouched for her skills, but when I look at her, I see a woman completely clueless and defenseless, a probable liability-- one we can't afford."

I sighed dramatically at her scolding, letting Sole finish greeting everyone while I puffed on a stale cigarette then ground it under my boot. I was stalling for time before I had to speak to her, not really sure what to say. Partners tended to either flip out and get themselves killed, or say the wrong thing and blow their cover-- again, getting themselves killed. I'm not particularly fond of watching people die, and seeing this pre-war beauty choking on her own blood is not how I wanted to go about my day. Been there, done that. 

Sole eventually made her way over to my dark corner, eyeing me with an unspoken question. It was obvious she remembered me from the noodle bar, but I doubt she knew that I knew all her important tidbits of information: kidnapped baby, murdered husband, frozen for two hundred years, went to lawschool, and had a homemaker sister named Karen, and also a murdered brother, which made her get into law. Funny how many trivial details VaultTec kept, but it was useful for small talk, in hindsight.

"Soooo, Dez tells me we're partners," I told her, giving her a weak smile, and grateful she was watching Dez closely at the moment.

"Is that so?" She muttered distantly. She finally turned her dark eyes towards me and waited patiently for me to continue. 

"Yup, I have a few routine stops to make. I'll show you the ropes, get you familiar with everything, and you should be working with Glory in a few weeks." I lit another smoke and watched her from behind my dark glasses, gauging her reaction. She seemed disappointed,  but didn't say a word as she gestured for me to lead the way.

Ha. A couple weeks. Again, not even close.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sole sees through Deacon for the first time.  
> He sees she's either really good or really bad at combat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in my head, I already have the ending chapter written. I am having trouble with the content for every other chapter though. Let me know if you guys have ideas you would like to see written in.

A few weeks later, she was still tagging along with me. At first it was really weird. Sometimes she'd be so quiet, I'd forget she was there. She'd do exactly as I instructed and carry out orders to the point it was excruciatingly boring. Other times, I caught that fire, that unmistakable passion for life. She would barrel in, guns blazing, dripping with rage. She'd poker fun, sometimes out matching my with with her own. Her humor wasn't lost on me; it was dry, sarcastic and clever, and I found myself learning to appreciate having her around.

When we hit up the Switchboard - our former HQ - I got to see her badassery in effect way more than I ever had before. We had the place mostly cleared, Institute synths were dropping left and right. Then, she  _tripped_. Don't ask me what she stumbled over, but our girl landed face first on the floor, right in the path of a merciless laser gun. So, of course, I did what any gentleman would do: inflict barked at her to get her ass out of the line of fire. She seemed to be lost, like a kid in the middle of a deathclaw gladiator match. And it hit me, she was afraid. The synth realized, just as I did, that she was a far easier target than I was. She had lost her rifle and was otherwise unarmed. He turned to her, just as my gun ran out of ammo. I didn't have time to reload to shoot him down. Since I did what any handsome, heroic and selfless partner would do: I tackled him.

I may have saved her life, but like I said, I'm an  _ex-_ liar, so saying I came out unscathed would be wrong. I got hurt, pretty badly might I add. The synth's laser rifle got me right under the collar bone, melting my polymer armour and searing my skin. I may have let out a very manly cry of pain, but all I remember clearly was the dead weight of the synth as it slumped over top of me.  Heaved it off of me to see her standing above me, her rifle aimed in my direction with shaking hands. She didn't even try to resist when I carefully pried it from her grasp. Once she was again unarmed, it didn't take her long to snap out of it. She began to cry -- and not quiet sniffles or silent weeping, it was full fledged sobbing.

"Hey, hwy. Relax, everything's ok," I assured her. She gingerly touched my armour, right next to the charred hole where the laser melted it. Her face was horrified, a mixture of shock, terror and guilt. I took out a stimpack, one of the last few we had between us, and handed it to her. "I need you to help me get my chest piece off and inject this directly into the burn after you sterilize it. It needs to be done quickly so I don't pass out. Can you do that for me?" I asked her, speaking in a tone I reserved for frightened children.

She nodded quickly and began unfastening the straps to my armour, and pulling back my leathers underneath. The skin sickly -- as burned flesh often does. It was an angry red, bubbled and melted in places, showing the muscle and fat underneath. The edges of the wound, still fresh, we're black like grilled brahmin. Sole looked a little queasy at the sight, but she did as instructed, carefully pouring antiseptic over the wound and jabbing the needle into the sore flesh. I let out a loud moan, feeling my head spin as the pain took over. Once the flesh began to knit back together, leaving a pink scar where the angry red one was before, she began gingerly dabbing at the charred skin with a clean rag. Her eyes filled with tears, and I had to look away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her face with abandon. I didn't really know what to say. She was going to get me, or herself, killed with her clumsiness. So I did what Deacon always does -- I laughed it off.

"Ok, ok. Don't get all sappy on me Sole. I didn't bring any tissues. Trust me, you don't want to see a grown man cry."

She laughed at my attempt, drawing back when I hissed at her fingers probing into skin that was still a touch tender.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" She asked innocently.

"Well, besides being the  _sole_ partner of the notorious Deacon, the only one who has managed to stay alive? You're the sole survivor of an entire generation of pre-war popsicles. I thought it was fitting."

She nodded absently, almost permissively, and bandaged my chest, taking special care to avoid my newest feature.

"Don't you want to know my name?" She asked as she packed up our kit bag.

"Not really," I said, even though I already knew it. Her face fell at my words, but I recovered with a bit of truth. "Look, knowing your name puts you and anyone you care about in danger. Deacon's not my name either-- it just stuck. You can choose a ewe one if you want, but I'm  _probably_ not going called you anything but Sole now."

"Sole is a fish." She said quietly as I put my armour back on as best I could under the circumstances. 

"Nah. Sole is my partner in crime  _amiga_! And a pretty good one at that," I grinned.

She saw right through it to the truth underneath: I was just trying to make her feel better. It definitely wasn't working. Sooner than later, she wouldn't be phased by my lies. She'd learn to not take things at face value  _very_ quickly when standing next to me.

Again, s _oooo_ wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named our SS Sole because, well, she is the SS after all, but also because the code names all suck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sole ditches Deacon for Danse to take on a mission.

The first time I met Paladin Danse was in Sanctuary. By this point, Sole and I had been traveling together for some time. I guess you could say we were becoming fast friends. I even pulled my 'I'm really a synth' stunt with her, which she bought by the way. Ahem. Not that I really mind. She was lit up like a Christmas tree, she was just Glowing from embarrassment when I finally revealed the truth to her. Talk about gullible. I guess if I woke up in a world  _without_ radiation, mutants, and where murder was a regular Sunday, I might be a little gullible too. I did feel kinda bad for her, but that didn't stop me from teasing her. She would have to learn to cut that shit out or she would be completely duped -- at best. She took it in stride though.

The first few weeks after I really started bugging her, she would blush like a schoolgirl and apologize. By the time a month passed, she was tossing out quips as much as I was. She was starting to learn: you can't take everything so seriously, and you can't trust everyone. But in the nights away from HQ, we would make camp or sleep in one of her few established settlements, and I found I  _wanted_ her to trust me. My night watches were getting longer little by little. She was getting more comfortable around me, and around her settlers. Though sometimes, late at night, as I pretended to be focusing on our surroundings, she would be pretending not to cry. She'd turn her back to me, huddling into her sleeping bag and remain dead silent. The shaking shoulders gave her away though, every time.

I wanted to ask her about her life, but I was always afraid I would hit a few touchy areas, even if I wasn't trying to. There were times we couldn't walk down the damn street without her eyes glossing over and her shoulders starting to slump. I felt like an asshole; I felt we had come to some sort of unspoken agreement that we were, in fact, comrades, maybe even friends. I should be willing to let her unleash her grief so that we could move on and be a more efficient team. A small part of me wanted her to stop grieving so I could see her smile; her laughter at my jokes was becoming a seldom addition to our banter. I was beginning to miss the naive, pretty girl that stumbled out of that vault. In her place was a tired woman, grieving for a son she may never find, and a love she only just started to know. 

At least with Barbara, I had time. We had a few years before the UP Deathclaw assholes tore her to pieces in front of me. I swore, I would never allow anyone to suffer as Barbara did when she discovered she was a synth. She had wept and wept, for weeks. All she wanted was kids. She was stuck with me, an asshole who couldn't comfort her, who didn't know if he should be supportive or appalled. She never held it against me, but we never got the chance to talk about it, and now she's gone. I was in the same position with Sole. I knew she was hurting, but I almost wanted her to just  _stop grieving_ already. Nate was dead, maybe Shaun was too. I wanted her to get over it. Needed her to. Why? I have no idea, but I think even then, I knew I felt something for her.

I noticed, the day after a particularly heavy rainfall and a heavy bout of crying, that she seemed off. She wasn't saying much as we trekked through the 'Wealth, heading towards Sanctuary. I tried a few times to spark a conversation, even going so far as to openly flirt with her. The most I got was half a grunt and a cocked eyebrow. I gave up and left her to her thoughts. When we arrived in Sanctuary, my _good 'ole buddy_ Danse was the first to greet her. That was sarcasm if you missed it.

Danse glared openly at me. I don't think he knew I was with the Railroad then, but I think he had suspicions I was a synth maybe. He followed her around like a lost puppy. A very  _large_ lost puppy. The man towered above me -- he was well over six feet, even without his power armour. A full head of dark hair, a strong jaw spattered with whiskers, he just _oozed_ masculinity. Then you throw in his superiority complex, the self righteous way he carried himself as though he had never broken a rule in his life -- I couldn't stand him. 

But he could make her smile when I couldn't. And damn me to hell, I am a selfish man. _I_ wanted to be the one to elicit smiles and laughter from her.  I couldn't give her anything at all, I had given up my personal freedoms long before, but I wanted _something_. Just a smile here, a laugh there. I couldn't have anything else, only this one luxury in a horrible place.

I thought it would suffice, but seeing her with Danse, I realized very quickly: it was not _nearly_ enough.

When she finally caught up with me some time later, she behaved as though we hadn't spent hour upon hour in awkward silence. Her smile had returned, though it was weak, and almost sad. We traded some gear around, but she didn't seem to want to chat; her eyes never met mine, and she seemed upset with me about something. 

"Hey, Sole?" I broke the silence first. "Is something bothering you?" I asked. She hesitated a moment, so right away I knew something was up.

"No, not really. It's just been a long few months," she lied. I should have been proud, but I wasn't. Another hesitation; she fidgeted against the silence. "Deak, I'm going to run a few missions with Danse. Can you check in with HQ?" She offered no explanation for the sudden change in _preferable_ companions, no indication of any wrongdoing on my part. I was worried -- Danse was like a Brahmin on a steal mission. His combat skills were based on sheer power, mine were based in stealth, _and_ less likely to get her killed.

"Yeahhh," I drawled.  "That sparks _sooo_ many votes of confidence." I glared at her, but before she could respond, Danse was at her side _once again_. 

"Are you ready to continue our mission, soldier?" He asked her, oblivious to what I thought was the elephant in the room. I didn't give her a chance to respond. 

"Well, looks like I'm out of a job, " I said, trying to mask my jealousy with humour, but no one laughed. "You know where I'll be."

With that I turned around and walked away from her and Danse, leaving them to do whatever missions their bigoted leader assigned. It was a long back to HQ, but I was glad for the solitude. I needed it to help me figure out why I cared, why her friendship meant so much to me, and why I was troubled that it couldn't be more when I _knew_ it couldn't be more. I had spent years mourning my wife; she'd want me to move on and stop trying to attone for her death. At least that's what Glory thinks. Me? I don't know. Maybe it was guilt, maybe fear of losing someone all over again, or worry about our working relationship. I don't know. Maybe I was just _happy_ lying to myself. I was getting so good at it, sometimes I didn't know the truth anymore. The line between passionate and mentally unstable is a thin one. 

With all that walking, I learned two things: one, walking that far without a companion can end in death by boredom, and two, I did care about this shy, naive woman. I liked seeing her smile, listening to the sound to her voice. I liked the words behind the voice, and the character being the words.

She was like an unwritten book: plotting her course as the protagonist in her story, and I was the avid reader, captivated by every adventure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tired as I'm writing this. It sucks, I know it sucks, but I'm having serious writers block almost daily. Uggh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unedited. Deacon gets a wakeup call.

Glory was like a bloodhound, but for misery. She always seemed to be a able to figure out what was bothering me, even with my shades and my poker face. And she pried. And pried. And _pried_. 

 _God_.

Sole had been gone about two weeks, and I was starting to really miss her. I didn't get a chance to say a proper goodbye, and she could have been dead for all I knew. I hated Danse, I hated her, but most of all,  I hated myself. 

"So, are you going to sit there all day and sulk, or so you think you have time for an op?" Glory asked, her brow arched in a playful question.

"Not _sulking_ ," I drawled musically. "I happen to be contemplating the mysteries of the universe and the life therein."

"Right. Because anyone would believe that, Deacon. You've been cooped up in here for weeks. You need some fresh air."

"The air in the Commonwealth is hardly fresh, Glory." Carrington chipped in. We never saw eye to eye on anything, I don't know why he'd start,  especially when it concerned my own health."

"Look, Deacon. Something has been off about you lately. You're miserable. You barely eat, I doubt you're sleeping, and you haven't ran a single op. Just tell me what it is that's bothering you so that I can help you and we can get you over this hump. We have too much work to do for you to be this distracted."

She knew I hated being scolded like a child. My own parents didn't bother to scold me when I was growing up. Dez tries, but I wiggle my way out of it every time with my _undeniable_ charm and good looks. I sighed dramatically, knowing it would be far easier to just give in and tell her a half truth.

A half hour later, we were grabbing a dead drop while Glory tried to cut the silence with small talk. I mean, _come on_ , if the oppressive silence wasn't enough to make me say anything, did she _really_ think discussing the last radstorm storm would bring her more luck? I laughed at her expense, but she let it go and gave me a sympathetic look.

Yup, worse than scolding.

"I know I come off as not giving a shit about anything but the mission, but that's not true." My admission was strained. Not off to a good start.

"I know that Deacon. We all do. What's this really about?"

"Sole, she's... she went on a mission without me a few weeks ago and hasn't checked in since. I'm just worried."

"What mission? Have you told Dez?" She asked. I let out a frustrated sigh and looked away. The absolute last thing I wanted to do was tell Desdemona about my partner doing a mission so covert she couldn't take me, or tell me, about it. Ok, so _maybe_ not the last thing-- the last thing would _definitely_ be the fact said mission was being carried out with our enemy. I shook my head. 

"I don't know,  Glory, she wouldn't tell me. But I'm worsted something happened to her. It's not like her to not check in. She knows our mission is important. She wouldn't just abandon us like that." I tried to reason. 

"Are you sure about that? She's seemed a bit off lately, and she did mention..."

"What?"

"That her son was the most important thing in the world to her. Do you think it's possible she took off in search of the scientist?  What's his name?  Virgil?" 

My stomach hit the floor. The room was spinning and I felt like I did on the day the UP Deathclaws showed up at our settlement. If Sole went to the Glowing Sea, there was a good likelihood she would never come back. People just didn't come back from there. I ran my hand over my head, feeling two weeks of hair growth where I normally kept it as shiny as a bowling ball. I grimaced, and Glory mirrored me, unsure of what to say. 

"So what are you going to do? Go after her yourself? Have Dez send a squad? I know she's your partner Deak, but you can't risk agents' lives, or your cover. Even if you are romantically involved. " My head whirled around at that. She was trying to be comforting, and meant well, but _what the hell?!_ I took a deep breath, then another, not sure if I should be angry or amused.

"We're not romantically involved, Glory. Not even a little."

"Oh, well you two are practically attached at the hip, giving each other puppy eyes and stealing glances at each other when you think no one is looking."

"See, this is what you should let the professionals deal with recon. That's just horrible. Don't quit your say job." I joked. My defenses were up high at this point, and I didn't even know what it was that I felt around Sole.

"Whatever. When she gets back you better make a move. A little birdie told me someone else is interested in her," she sang as she walked back to Old North Church, leaving me to process her words. 

Women are complicated, but even moreso are the situations that involve them. 


	7. Chapter 7

It was night when PAM announced to everyone that there was a sighting of Sole in Goodneighbour, and based on patterns, statistics, and other various mumbo-jumbo, there was an eighty-seven percent chance she was still in the vicinity. I have no idea _how_ PAM predicts these things, but she's been wrong about as much as I told the truth. Which, believe me, was _rare_. Before anyone could comment, I grabbed my leather jacket and was running to the back entrance.

Glory called out over the panicked chaos, stopping me in my tracks. "Deacon! Bring her back safely, and tell her the truth already!"  

Of course, I didn't bother to comment. Obviously, if I didn't kill her _first_ , she would be back at HQ by supper time. She had a lot of explaining to do -- to me, to Dez, to Glory. Even PAM was concerned, and that's _pretty_ difficult for a robot that was created without a personality subroutine. We didn't know if she was dead or alive for nearly three weeks. She didn't check in with anyone. Her settlers didn't even know where she was. I was preparing myself for the worst -- a drug binge with Hancock or her joining up with the Gunners maybe. You always think you know people until they do something unexpected. Part of me might have wanted her to be involved in something dark so that I'd have a _reason_ to push her away even further. Having three weeks to do nothing but think about her was bringing in some unwanted thoughts that preyed on my guilt and invoked misery.

I asked around Goodneighbour,  but like most mobster cities before the Great One, no one knew _anything_. It was well past supper time, and still without a trace of her, I stumbled into the Third Rail for a drink. My head was swimming with worry and self pity: I didn't want to face the fact that I was developing some _serious_ feels for this girl, and I may have felt a bit of guilt for my previous thought patterns. Wishing her away like I did, and then she _really_ is gone? I was feeling a whole _other_ level of self loating. 

It was maybe fifteen minutes later that she emerged from a back room, with a fresh and bright eyed kid at her side. I say _kid_ , but I guess he was about twenty-one. She was smiling ear to ear, and he was standing _dangerously_ close to her. I had half a mind to shoot him where he stood just for looking at her like that. He said something quietly to her, and she laughed happily. Her usual, cheerful tone carrying over Magnolia's catchy tune. She covered a small hand over her mouth and swatted at him with a playfulness I thought she reserved for me. My heart stilled in my chest as his hand found the small of her back and he gestured to the bar. A little _too_ intimate for my tastes. Everything in me told me I should just leave, but I was frozen in place. Then her dark eyes found me.

Her smile faltered, her shoulder slumped, and her face fell. The young guy stood and looked back and forth from her to the bar, trying to gauge the situation and failing miserably. _Dimwit_. She made her way over, ignoring the man at her elbow, and sat down two seats from me. For a moment she didn't speak, but I _knew_ it was coming. I waited patiently, flicking the flip lighter: open, closed, open closed. When her voice came, it was quiet and shaking, barely heard over the loud patrons.

"How'd you find me?" She asked.

"PAM," I said simply, then, "Why didn't you let us know you're ok? Why didn't you at least let me know? I thought we were at least past the point of faking our own deaths to be rid of each other." The joke did nothing to break the tension between us. The man beside her _tried_ to pretend like he wasn't listening, sipping on his scotch while keeping his eyes glued to the counter. She still wouldn't look at me, intently stirring her drink. I had dreaded this conversation, and I was starting to figure out why. I didn't want her eyes to turn to me and reveal her disappointment, her sadness or anger at some remark I'd said. But even in this, she gave away nothing.

"I need time, Deacon. I... Danse and I went into the Glowing Sea and found Virgil. At first, I had been recovering from radiation sickness, but then... I just couldn't come back. I wasn't ready."

"Why not? We just wanted to know you weren't devoured by mirelurks or something, you know." I could feel myself getting angry. Angry Deacon was _bad_. Like a flawed Grognak. Or something.

"I just... have a lot of things going on. My son, this new life I've been thrown into. My husband." Her eyes looked to me then, filled with unshed tears. So that's what it boiled down to: guilt.

I pulled her off her stool, dragging her to an empty spot of the room and pulled her to me, as if we were locked in an intimate dance to the tempo of the slow song. She was warm and soft under my hands, even though she was tense and rigid. We swayed for a moment, enjoying the closeness, and she closed her eyes as I whispered to her, my lips grazing over the flesh of her ear.

"Don't _ever_ scare me like that again, Sole. I know you have things going on, things I don't understand all the time, but don't keep it from me. You're my partner, and I can't keep you safe if you're hiding from me. I can't help you through _anything_ if you don't let me, and I'd rather you trust me than someone who would kill you if they knew who you were."

"I thought you said not to trust anyone?" She said bitterly, her head resting on my chest. I laughed it off, knowing then she read the recall codes I gave her weeks before her departure. That what this whole thing boiled down to: she felt betrayed.

"No. I said you can't trust _everyone_ ," I corrected. I tightened my grip on her waist, rubbing her back in small circles with my thumb. "Most people will use what they know about you to hurt you, Sole."

"And you wont?" She snapped. "You lied to me, convinced me you were one of the people I was fighting for."

"Does that change aything? I give that note to all the newcomers, to test them, to show them how the world really is. Anyone can lie to you, even without meaning to, and then everything you care about is at risk. Family, friends. You learned one of the most valuable lessons I could ever teach you. You might hate me for it now, because yes, it _was_ a dick move. I'm sorry I had to lie to you to get you to understand."

"Danse doesn't lie to me to teach me lessons." Her comment hit home. Hard. She may have just taken all my insides, thrown them in a bowl and mashed them like tatos. Her eyes were cold as steel when she looked up at me, daring me to say something. _So_ , I did.

"I'm sure Danse taught you all _kinds_ of lessons."

Well, if there was _ever_ a more _idiotic_ thing to say, it's probably written in a language long forgotten. I waited for her hand to pull away, winding up to slap the shit out of me, but it never came. She let go of me, ending our dance, both of wit and rhythm, and signaled to the guy still sitting at the bar.

"MacCready, move out," she shouted to him, and all at once he jumped to attention, downed his drink and holstered his rifle.

Smooth, Deacon. _Real_ smooth.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon's sulking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Life is getting hectic!

Well, Glory was right. I was sulking.

She left with that kid and it'd been weeks. Dez got tired of me hanging around and sent me back out in the field. Before I met Sole, I _loved_ working alone. Now, I was struggling to say the least. Having spent so long working in perfect tandem with someone, I started to become accustomed to having her compensate my weaknesses with her strengths and vice versa. I had someone to watch my back, talk me out of fear, riddle me with humour when I was in pain. On my own out there, it was just me. Me and the creepy silence of the 'Wealth. Well, when cars weren't _exploding_ anyway.

After a particularly grueling day of separating raiders' heads from their bodies, I staggered, drunk on pain and exhaustion, to HQ. I guess that's when the heavens parted and angels sang, or something. Anyway, there she was, talking frantically to Dez and Tom, her features animated and vibrant. I hung back, just behind the chemistry station, listening to nothing specific but enjoying the sound of her voice. If she saw me, she'd probably cut me up into small pieces and feed me to Strong. I didn't want to be an idiot, yet _again_ , and push her away. So I let her talk, something about a decoded chip and some schematics.

Then the serious tone entered her voice again, her jaw set, and her entire posture shifted.

"Where's Deacon?" She asked. My heart was doing jumping jacks, my breathing hitched, and I felt like an asshole _again_.

"He's on an op at Ticon, delivering a package. I expect him back soon. Did you need him to help you get these supplies?" Dez asked, counting the itemized list on her fingers.

Of _course_ , that was the perfect moment for Glory to spot me. Of _course_ Sole had mentioned what a dick I was. And of _course_ Glory would throw me under the bus for it.

"Look what the cat dragged in! Deacon, good timing, Sole's back!" She hollered, her lips curled into a sly smirk. Damn her and her meddling. She couldn't just let me have my moment, _noooo_.

"You're back early, " Dez muttered, flipping between reports while avoiding my gaze. "I trust everything went smoothly?"

" _Common_ Dez," I winked. "When do things _ever_ go smoothly? But, don't worry, I _singlehandedly_ took out a den of ferals, escorted a gorgeous, curvy synth to safety, sired a generation of mini Deacon warrior Androids, and taught a supermutant to pirouette. All in all, a successful mission." Dez rolled her eyes, but the corners of Sole's mouth turned downwards into a deep frown. 

"Can I talk to you for a second, Deacon?" Sole's expression was unreadable. Which is _pretty_ rare. As much as I wanted a _groveling_ apology, I was really sure she was going to tell me to go to hell. I was really too tired to get another earful from the one woman who has made me feel _anything_ since Barbara. Of course, I wasn't going to tell  _her_ that, so I brushed past her and made a beeline for Carrington, since she avoided him like the plague. Despite my lack of eye contact and  _obvious_ passive-aggressive _behavior, on_ top of her general loathing for the good doctor, she followed me. She day with me as he injected the stimpack and bandaged my calf, waiting for me to address her -  _which_ I did not.

When he was finished and dismissed me with a grunt, I left her standing with him and retreated to my dirty old mattress. I could just _feel_ her eyes watching me. She sat on the floor next to me, not daring to park on my crash pad. I turned my back to her, half expecting her to talk my ear off, half expecting her to retreat. I waited. And _waited_. 

It wasn't until I heard her muffled sobs that I finally broke and caved in, pulling her into my arms. She curled into my chest, her small fists just under her cheek, and she looked so _small_. I could feel her hot tears on my shirt as she shook. I rubbed small circles on her back as we laid without speaking, and if anyone else heard her, they had the courtesy not to mention it. She wept for a long time as I held her tight to me, as reassuring as I could be. I couldn't give her much, but I could give her this. I hoped I could be what she needed in that moment -- comfort, strength, support. Hoped I could somehow make up for every time she cried and I pretended I never heard her. She fell asleep with tear stained cheeks, and I found my lips brushing her forehead softly, hoping she slept through it, but also wishing she'd wake. I wanted to see if I could be the man she needed, if I could somehow make her feel like I did.

I didn't want to admit it then, not to her or even to myself. Even though I knew I wanted her, she wanted someone else. Even though I needed her, she didn't need me and all the baggage I brought in from my fucked up past. Even though I wanted to be worthy of her, I never could be. And even though I loved her, and God I _really_ did, I didn't deserve her.

You know what they say: 'To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.'

My punishment wasn't quite over yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.  
> ~Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding


	9. Chapter 9

Talking wasn't really my forte. Or Sole's. So it goes without saying that we didn't discuss 'that' night. Not that anything happened, but I wasn't going to point out _my_ feelings when she was obviously ignoring the entire situation.

We continued liberating synths, clearing out ferals and putting down muties. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until it was.

Sole had been a little _more_ than quiet on a particular day of romping through the 'Wealth. Of course, it had been after another night of crying, where I soothed her as best I could. I'm not one for emotional outbursts, but she needed a shoulder, and I can remember what it was like to lose everything. I let her fall asleep in my arms --again. I don't know when she stilled, but it was faster than the last time. I was becoming quite proficient at this. But I must have said something, or done something, that had made her uncomfortable. After we had made nice again, I didn't like to see her slip back into that withdrawn behavior that screamed indifference.

And _then_ we ran into a raider gang. I had been focused on Sole, and she was off on Planet X somewhere, so we didn't see them. It wasn't until we were dead center in their camp did we realize we were in danger. 

The first shot fired grazed my shoulder, ripping my leather armour and leaving a deep gash. It stung like a _bitch_. In the time it took me to grab my gun, bullets were firing, and raiders were coming out of the ground like cockroaches. Sole took out a few with her laser rifle, and ducked for cover.

"Yeah, thanks, Navigator!" I yelled, half joking. 

"Shut up and shoot!" She shouted back.

A handful of raiders went down while we shot from cover, with her covering the north side of the camp, and me, the east. Blood and brains decorated the cracked pavement, looking dark in the late afternoon sun. And then I saw it, and I stopped in my tracks.

A raider had one arm locked around her throat, the other pointing a gun at her head. She didn't look afraid, but rather, confident. Confident I would kill her attacker. The shots had stopped firing, giving me a moment to check my surroundings. Three raiders were to the south, the rest were dead. This left a small, _small_ chance that I could take them out. Three shots. Although, it also left a slightly larger chance Sole would have a bullet hole as a new facial _accessory_ , or that I would end up riddled with bullets myself.

"Sole! Don't worry, just stay calm. Everything is alright."

"I have a gun to my head, Deacon. How the hell is everything alright?" She hissed back. 

"Put the gun down, asshole." Yeah, like I was _that_ stupid.

"Deacon, I'm sorry. They're going to kill us anyway. I only have one chance," she rasped, her index finger pointing downward. I understood.  How, I have no idea, but I vaguely remember a conversation where we discussed speaking in code.

"Two nights ago... I'm sorry... I didn't mean it." I said back. She closed her eyes, bringing her middle finger to point down with the index finger.

"I know. Three words. I love you, Deacon." She opened her eyes then, holding my gaze for a moment, before her ring finger bolted down. She buckled her knees, having all her weight drop straight down, the skinny raider being pulled along with her, enough to expose his head just a _bit_ more. Just enough. 

One shot and he was down. Sole grabbed his gun. I shot another raider, and she went down as well. Sole fired a shot, but missed, a bullet hitting her in the calf just as she fired a round. She let out a pained cry, leaving me to deal with the remaining two riflemen. Because, _of course._ I have to do most of the work myself. One raider slipped just enough in a patch of concrete that was slick with blood. He quickly caught his footing, but by the time he did, a .44 caliber bullet was redecorating the interior of his skull. The final raider shot a few times, and ended up retreating with a few rounds in his back. I figured I'd let the infection finish him off.

It was quiet then. I ran over to Sole, who was whimpering behind a rusted car. She gave me a weak smile as I checked her leg. The bullet went clean through. I splashed some antiseptic on her leg, secretly enjoying the moan that escaped her when I did. 

"You're enjoying this," she pointed out quietly, a slight smile on her face. Ok, _maybe_ I wasn't enjoying it as secretly as I thought. 

"Maybe a little bit," I teased her as I applied the bandage gently to her shin. I was suddenly aware of how warm her skin was, how small she was. I tied off her bandage, leaving my palm to rest on it as I watched her face. I was sitting so close to her, and despite all the death and destruction around us, all I wanted to do in that minute was kiss her. "Don't scare me like that again, boss."

Her eyes were glassy at that, and a faint pink coloured her from cheeks to collarbone. Her chin trembled a little bit, and I couldn't help it when I tucked a wild lock of hair behind her ear. When she leaned into my touch, it was an instant before I grabbed her trembling chin in my fingers, lifting her eyes to mine.  I wanted to see her, the real her, in that moment. It's an image I never got out of my head, even to this day. I searched her face for permission, and I saw so many emotions there that I hesitated. Fear, joy, anger, shame, guilt, lust, loneliness. 

I leaned in slowly, despite my _obvious_ desire to take her right there amidst raider guts and post-war filth. She brushed her lips sweetly against mine, shaking even more now. I kissed her back gently, cupping her face in my palm and feeling her soft skin under the pads of my thumb. Her skin was so perfect -- no scars, no marks, just soft ivory under my fingers. So different from...

I pulled away then, avoiding her eyes. I was an _asshole_. All the guilt I felt when I kissed her-- how the hell could I be anything to her? How the hell could I _love_ her, when I felt grief and guilt over my long dead, synth wife?

"So umm... I'm going to try to convince the next raw recruit that I'm President Eden. Think I can pull it off?" Wow. I outdid myself for the worst case of foot-in-mouth disease ever. But instead of an angry glare, she offered me a sad smile. I jumped up to find her something to use as a crutch until we could get back to Dr. A-Hole -- I mean, Carrington -- and get more stimpacks. 

That night, if she was crying, I never heard her. But it was pretty hard to hear _anything_ with Barbara's voice in my thoughts. I know she would have scolded me for passing up a great gal like Sole. She would have wanted me to be happy. Or at least, loved. But, I was a brooding, lying ass who _needed_ pain. _Thrived_ in it. 

I thought about how I felt when that gun was pointed at Sole's head: I was afraid to live any part of my life without her. I needed her even more than I needed the pain. Barbara was gone, Sole was here now. I needed to talk to her about everything, but, like I said, emotions aren't my deal. 

I sat up all night and thought about what I would say. Having not strung two words together by dawn, I lit a smoke and watched her sleep. 

"I'm pulling Sole off your team for a while," Desdemona's voice called quietly from across the room. It was like a stab in the gut. 

"What? Why?" I demanded, forgetting to put on my poker face. 

"Besides the fact that missions are being compromised because of your... fraternizing, she's going undercover."

"Dez, you know I don't pick the pretty daisies," I joked. Truthfully, I probably would have, if given half a chance. "And just how is she going undercover? She can't be inconspicuous even with a disguise and a face swap."

"Good thing she doesn't need it for where she's going then."

"Why exactly doesn't she need it? You can't be undercover if everyone in the Commonwealth knows who you are." I pointed out the obvious. Dez watched me for a minute, seeming to decide on my motive for arguing against her plan.

"Her mission isn't in the Commonwealth. She's going to infiltrate the Institute."

And just like _that_ , my world shattered.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon confronts Sole about her mission, and says half of what he wants to, and acts out the other half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life sucks, so this took longer than intended.

I couldn't believe it. Sole was planning on infiltrating the one place I imagined was close to hell, and she hadn't even bothered to tell me. I was heartbroken. I was afraid. I was fucking pissed.

There was a good chance that if Sole went into the lion's den, she wouldn't come back. I couldn't live with results like those. I wouldn't, not again. I wanted a life with Sole; to wake up and see her face, to taste her lips before bed, to hear my name on whispered breath. We would raise Shaun together, maybe have kids of our own, and I would kiss away her tears and make her forget what made her cry late into the nights. 

But now, I was seeing my desires drift away, the dusty debris of words unspoken and dreams unshared. I couldn't let her leave without telling her how I felt. I made the mistake of taking for granted someone I loved once--- the only other person I ever loved-- and I wasn't about to let her rush into oblivion by herself without knowing what I needed her to know. 

I spent the better half of the night thinking about all I would say, from the hard truths of reality to the softness of the heart. By the time she woke, my speech was prepared and rehearsed. But, like so many other shitty facts of life in the 'Wealth, something just had to get shit-fucked up. Ticonderoga had been hit during the night, and it was hit hard. The Institute killed everyone, destroyed the tech, and confiscated the weapons. Dez was furious, barking out orders left and right. In all the chaos, agents began scrambling, and before I knew it, Sole was gone. 

Apparently, she had to head back to Sanctuary to check on things there before her wonderful trip to the Institute. I had the words, I had the voice, and it was time to get the girl. I spent the better part of the morning making the trek to Sole's favorite settlement, earning myself a sunburn on my nose and legs made out of mirelurk jelly. Or, maybe that was nerves. I was heading over the hill just outside of Sanctuary, and I saw her; legs dangling off the bridge where she sat, her hair whipping in the wind as she rested her head on the cross-supports. It was almost poetic the way she sat, seemingly reading in the skies the meaning of life, or maybe rethinking how fucked up her mission really was.

I sat down next to her in silence, but she didn't turn to look at me. Instead, she took my hand in hers, and leaned against me as I pulled her close to me. We stayed like that for a long time, until I couldn't stand the quiet anymore.

"Do you think the Institute has a big library? I wouldn't mind some Marx or Plato if you're taking requests." My sense of levity was obviously sub-par, since Sole didn't even crack a weak smile. 

"I have to go Deak. Shaun needs me. " She finally looked at me then, unshed tears in her eyes, and my heart just about broke right there. All I could do was squeeze her hand. 

"I know, Beautiful."

"There is a good chance that I won't come back." And there was the tear. If she let one more fall, I knew that would be it for me, I'd implode right there.

"Aww, don't say that boss! You're the best there is. You're going to go in there, flash that pretty smile, grab Shaun and they won't even know it." She did give a sad smile then. I really wasn't helping. "Look, Sole. I've never met anyone like you. You're strong, and smart as hell. You've been through more than anyone I know, and you're still a good person. That shows adaptability, smarts. You'll come back... you have to. Everyone needs you. I need you." I looked into her eyes then, and for once, I didn't see the fear that always gripped her. There was no shame there.

I leapt at the chance and pulled her into my arms, bringing her lips to mine, not in the timid and gentle way of before, but passionate and unreserved, the way I had wanted to since I first saw her. She returned my kiss, nervously at first, and then filled with as much passion as I felt for her. I brought my hands up to cup her face as I deepened the kiss, and she let out a small whimper. I broke away from her then, awkwardly looking at my hands, wondering if this was the right thing to do.  _What if she doesn't feel the same? What if she's right, and I end up losing her too?_ She reached for my face and dragged my gaze to hers, stroking my cheek with the soft pads of her thumbs.  _How are her hands so soft after shooting rifles all day?_

"Deak," she said softly, her eyes were soft and gentle. "Walk me home?" For a second, maybe not even that, I considered the fact that she lived a whole hop, skip, and jump away from where we sat. She had trudged through the 'Wealth alone for who knows how long, and yet she wanted me to walk her home. It took me longer to put it together than I would like to admit, and when I looked at her, her pillowed and swollen lips actually  _smirked._ I'm pretty sure my jaw hung open, but all I could to was offer a dumbstruck nod as she led me by the hand to her home.

She slammed me against the door once we were inside. We kissed like it was our last day on earth. It was like I was drowning, and it was only her air I needed. It sounds corny, but there it is. I'm not one to kiss and tell, but it's important to the story to tell you one thing led to another. That's all you're getting, you pervs.

We laid there afterwards, legs entwined and I felt whole. Not just 'I got my groove on' whole, but like I haven't felt since Barbara. Like I connected with her on a whole other level. She cuddled into my side and I kissed the top of her head in quiet affection. Somehow, this meant more to me than the hour or so we spent learning each other's bodies. I drew lazy circles on her shoulder as she stared off into space, not uttering a word. Again, I found myself wondering if this had been a mistake. I just hoped that in the morning she wouldn't shrug it off as nothing. It was silent for so long I was sure she fell asleep, but then she sat up to dress herself again. 

"Sole?" I called to her gently, and she froze. "Where were you, when you left?" She seemed to collect her thoughts for a moment, and when she turned to face me again, her face was unreadable. 

"I had to find Virgil. In the Glowing Sea." Her tone was flat, almost cold.

"Why didn't you ask me to come with you? I _would_ have come you know," I chided her. The look she gave me _screamed_ irritated with a side of irate.

"I'm sure you and the radscorpions would have plenty to laugh about, but Danse came with me."

Danse. Again, I felt sick at the mention of his name, the hulking hero being her number one choice _again_. It was like he kept winning some lottery for her attention. Then I remembered I was the one laying in her bed. I guess my face gave away how I felt about her traveling with the Brotherhood soldier, because she _ripped_ into me.

"Seriously Deacon? I asked Danse because he has a working set of X-01 power armour, and his training makes him able to withstand the crap we had to face out there. And because I can relax around him!"

"And you _can't_ relax around me? Then what was _this_ about? What are we doing Sole?" I said, louder than I intended. Her lip began to tremble, and I immediately felt like a dick. "Shit. I'm sorry Sole, come here. Shh." I held her in my arms as her shoulders shook, rubbing comforting circles on her back.

"It's not like you think, you know," she explained. "When I'm around Danse, it's all business. There's no thinking about my life, about what I want, or what I can't have. With you, I just... think too much. And everyday I need to think more. I've lost so much, and it's not fair to you either, to drag you into this mess when I don't even know if I'm coming out on the other side of it. I don't know what I want after I get Shaun back. And it makes me feel so guilty."

I didn't really have anything to say that would make her feel less guilty. In fact, it might do the opposite, but I came to Sanctuary on a mission, even if I did stray from it.

"Sole, listen. I don't mean to make you feel guilty. I don't _want_ you to feel guilty. I know you have a lot of stuff on your plate right now, I was just _so_ worried when you left. I didn't know where we stood, or if you'd come back. I wasn't sure how I felt about you, and I felt guilty for that too. But, I know now. I know I'm in love with you Nora, and not _even_ a little bit. Like, a whole fucking lot. You might not feel that way about me, and that's ok. I need you to know before you leave, in case you don't come back, or in case you don't _want_ to."

She watched me for a moment, her eyes judging the truth of my statement. Then, the magic was gone, and she nodded once, slowly, before curling into me and falling asleep without a response.

When I awoke the next morning, she was gone. Only a note was left where she had slept, three words that I hoped promised more than they said:  _I'll come back._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sole returns from the Institute much later than expected, and finds Deacon waiting. 
> 
> Lucy, you have some-a essplaining to do!

If the first few hours waiting for Sole to return were painful, the second _week_ was excruciating.

I stayed in Sanctuary, waiting as patiently as I could. If patient meant pacing the broken pavement, picking fights with anyone who dared wonder aloud about her, and sitting on the bridge late into the night, thinking about her. I stopped taking assignments and Glory was starting to get smug that her counts were catching up to mine. Honestly, I was beyond caring.

It was the eleventh day, just before dawn, when I heard footsteps creeping silently from the settlement. Sturges was probably one of the quietest of Sole's friends, but he still couldn't sneak up on me. You can't con a con. He leaned against the bridge railing, facing away from me and the rising sun. He let out a loud stretch and cleared his throat, piecing his thoughts together.

 "Beautiful mornin', ain't it?" He asked. I opted to skip the small talk and watch the irradiated water running below my dangling feet. "Deacon, look, people are startin' to get worried. You ain't been eatin', your light is on long after I turn mine out, and you're up before the sun.  I don't think the boss would want you to fade away before she gets back."

"Sturges, I appreciate what you're trying to do, _but_ I'm afraid it's other going to happen. II'll throw up if I eat. My stomach is in knots since _you_ let her leave. I can't sleep at night, thinking about what they could do to her. I mean if she comes back, will she even still be Nora?" 

Sturges let out a low chuckle and I shot him a look. 

"What is funny about this?" I demanded. He offered me a smoke as a peace offering and explained.

"Nora thought you didn't know her name."

"That's ridiculous, of course I know her name."

"Yeah, I heard it a few times last night. Point is, she never knew Drew til you tossed it in her lap yesterday. "

"Wait, she told you about that?"

"Well, I put two and two together, plus she asked me to get you somewhere that you could retire and read Proust all day if anything happened to her. That girl got it so bad she don't even know what's up and what's down lately. Just don't hurt her, Deacon. She's a good lady, the a Wealth needs more like her. Plus if you do, I can think of at least three other fellas who wouldn't mind takin' your place, myself included."

I'm pretty sure my glare was shooting lasers.

"That's _so_ reassuring," I mumbled.

"See? There it is again. But you forget, Deacon: I've known you since just after Barbara. You're doin' the same thing now that you did when you were grievin'. You're gettin' bitter, building up walls incase--"

I _might_ have fit rough with him. I _might_ have grabbed him by the lapel and held him against the railing, my face inches from his, daring him to finish. 

"Do _not_ go there.  Sole's coming back, and I don't want to hear any bullshit from you or anyone else that even _hints_ at otherwise."

"I got it, man! Look, I was just tryin' to help, I didn't mean nothin'. Sorry."

Sturges backed away slowly while I fumed. He was right, damn him. I was becoming like my old self again-- bitter, violent, and cold. I didn't want that. I leaned against the railing and breathed, watching the sun glitter on the creek. It was calming, and I found myself wondering what it was like before the war. Did Sole enjoy picnics here? Did the neighborhood kids play in it, splashing like I saw in old magazine ads? I was pulled from the thought abruptly, my heart in my throat. 

"Who's Barbara?"

My head whipped around to see Sole standing close enough to touch, and I realized how lucky I was that it was her that caught me daydreaming and not a mutie. I stood, frozen on the spot, noticing her tear stained face. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she smiled as I brought her into my arms and held her. I was shaking, from fear and relief all at once, and I realized she was waiting for an answer. But how do you tell the woman you love about a love ripped away from you? In what world is that fair? Her eyes searched the ground for answers, and finally she gripped my hand and dragged me with her as she walked. 

"Nuh-uh, you first," I grinned at her, then turned serious once more. "You're ok? Where's Shawn?" Her face fell, her eyes facing forward again, and her body grew stiff as a board as she walked. 

"Deacon, it's worse than I could ever imagine," she said quietly, almost under her breath. "Shaun is gone, he's lost to me forever. I was frozen longer than I thought, and he's old and... dying. Worse, he's the director. Of the Institute. My baby is a monster. My son is my sworn enemy."

I studied her for a moment, unsure of what to say. She wouldn't lie about this, she was far too honorable. For a moment, fear erupted in keeping that she would betray the Railroad for her son; that she would become  _my_ enemy. 

"You don't need to worry. You're safe. I know what needs to be done. I will bring the Institute down by any means necessary. They stole my whole world from me: my husband, my baby. I'm going to  _make sure_ each of those bast bastards pay, and God help anyone who gets in my way."

Her words made me uneasy, and if I'm honest, which I swore to you I would be, I knew. I knew deep down that Sole had changed, and she would never be the same woman again. The woman I loved -- she died the morning she slipped out of our warm embrace and journeyed into the belly of the beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sturges is a synth. It's likely he knew Deacon for a while. This chapter is completely unedited. Sorry.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything seemingly returning to normal, Deacon starts to sense something is amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, closer to an interlude really. I wanted to show the confusion. Let me know what you think! Not edited.

Things _seemed_ to return to normal. We ran a few ops, moved a few packages, and placed a few MILAs. We spent most of our time rescuing settlers who, don't ask me how, were kidnapped multiple times. Stop hanging out at raider dens, and maybe you'll stop getting grabbed, am I right? Sole would smile and reassure them as needed, but grumble under her breath about the 'damn simpletons' again and again when she thought I wasn't listening. 

Her reaction to the futility of the situation with the moronic settlers was one thing, but her reaction to everything else _surprised_ me. She increasingly began placing Garvey in charge of the Minutemen, MacCready in charge of settlers, and myself in charge of synths. Nick took over investigations, Cait cooked, Curie was resident doc, and Piper arranged shipments. But Danse was partnered with Sole, and they ran most of her missions together. I didn't like that, not even a _little_ bit. 

She would return from her secret missions a mess; her hands trembled, her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair a mess. She would sometimes crawl into bed beside me, and I would hold her silently until morning, usually neither of us sleeping, but feeling too awkward to say anything. I learned that professing my love made her uncomfortable, and so, instead, I tried to show her rather than than tell her. 

But still, she seemed a million miles away.

Finally, I was sick with worry and I decided to ask Danse, but he was as much of a dumb brute as ever. He never noticed her outbursts, her silent stares, her indifference. I had to assume it was me. The first night after she returned, we had made love in the privacy of her home. I told her I didn't know what I would do without her, that I was so worried when she was away. I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to her, and I tried to tell her that she meant everything to me. 

After that, she never invited me to her home again. Instead, she would crawl in my window. Well, the space in the wall. She wouldn't disturb me at first, but watched me in silence when she thought I was sleeping. When I would roll over, she would slide in beside me, her entire body pressed against mine, and mumble something into my chest. I was too much of a coward to ask her to speak up, afraid that she would leave as quickly as she came. When she finally drifted off to sleep, I would hug her tight and hope she'd be alright. But, to be honest, if I had been dealt the blow she had, I wouldn't be okay either. 

Then, one day she came to me, offering me a chance to finish up a mission in Covenant. The whole place was boatloads of weird, but I agreed. Before I had a chance to say goodbye, she had slipped out with Danse again. The trek wasn't too far from Sanctuary, but far enough that I needed a partner-- worse case scenario and all that. MacCready volunteered to come with me, listening patiently while I spoke about my worry for Sole. I should have clued in: MacCready is never patient about _anything_. 

We finished up the mission as assigned, got Ms Stockton out of danger, and headed back to Covenant for a stiff drink. Jacob Orden asked MacCready to check out a leaky roof at some point, probably around drink five of Bobrov's best Moonshine. If _that_ was his best, I'd hate to taste his worst. Tabitha wandered over soon after, letting me know that MacCready needed a hand. So, like any amazing friend, I headed over to look for Mac and end his suffering, knowing that he never was a handyman. 

I woke up, hours later, on the floor of the lone Covenant prison cell. I only remember my head was pounding, and the lounge guard would not tell me why I was locked up like a criminal. Food would be brought in by an unknown settler, brahmin steaks, tatos, cornbread, and razorgrain pudding. They had obviously been told not to speak with me. By the fourteenth day, I was a mess. I didn't understand why I was here and Mac was free, why no one had come for me, and why my "prisoner" meals were better than most people normally ate in a week. There was no news, no words. I investigated every crack and bar, but the glass was bulletproof, and the place was well maintained. Fuck, I stopped caring that they put tranquilizers in my food because they emptied the small enamel bucket they have me to piss in.

The first few escape attempts ended badly; the one guard inside was always alert, but the six guys on watch outside were a problem. The interior guard emptied my bucket the same time every night, so I fed him my pudding. Forcefully. The guards outside, however, were not so easy. Gun-butted at least three times, it's a wonder my cranium is still _intact_. By day eighteen, I had lost all hope. I was likely going to die in this cell, and MacCready must have not made it back if I was still here. No rescue was coming, I was sure of it. The Railroad had never even been able to infiltrate Covenant, so _they_ weren't an option either. I was depressed, spending my time reading books the guard would drop through the bars.

Then, as if nothing had happened, she just _walked in._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon receives some unsettling news and the plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's minimal game dialog in this chapter.

" _Annnnnd_ the cavalry arrives! I gotta admit, it's been _quiet_ without you," I said as I learned my head between the cold steel bars. 

"Hello, Deacon," she smiled sadly, caressing my cheek with her palm. I missed the feel of her skin, the warmth of her touch. 

"Quick, let me out of here before Captain Cult decides to lock you up too. You get MacCready already?" Sole's hand dropped to her side, and she looked away. 

"I can't do that, Deac." She backed up slowly, and placed a chair about six feet away. She sat down silently, and gazed down at the floor in front of me.

"Boss, what's wrong?" Her eyes went distant, and she remained quiet. "Nora, talk to me. Is it so bad my favorite girl can't stop the inevitable lynching that's coming?" She visibly grimaced, and my heart was in my throat.

"I can't be your favorite girl, Deacon." Sole's eyes glazed over with tears.

"Look, if this is about Barbara, I can explain. But you have to believe me when I say it's all you, babe. Barbara... she was my wife, but she died. You're here, Sole. You're all that matters to me now. Nothing will get in the way of that. I'm truly and madly in lo--"

"Stop it, Deacon!" She shouted. Tears were streaming down her face in earnest, and she sat on the chair with her head in her hands. "Just stop. I can't do this with you anymore. I don't deserve the love you're giving me. I'm a monster." 

I didn't understand. I wanted to. I wanted to console her and take away her pain, absolve her of any guilt she felt for whatever fate had in store for me. But, _damn_ those metal bars were so....metal. Cold, lifeless, indifferent metal. I hated the way her shoulders shook, the way she hid her face from me as she wept. She didn't want me to see her eyes. 

"Sole, whatever you're feeling, it's ok, I get it. But you're _not_  a monster. I can't think of one single thing you could say that would make me think that." 

"Shut up! Just fucking shut up! You weren't there! You didn't see what I did. You didn't hear their screams when I shot them. You didn't watch their eyes as life drained out of them. You didn't see the look of terror when they realized I betrayed them! Every one of them. Except you."

My eyes shot up to her face. I knew. She murdered them. The entire fucking Railroad. She had me locked up there, in that creepy _cultist_ fucking town, while she murdered the people I called friend. Rage boiled in me; all the years of my atonement was for nothing. For another bigot to murder and destroy what they didn't understand.  How couldn't I see who she really was before? Why couldn't I notice any hate or disgust like I did when Danse saw synths and ghouls? I thought I knew this woman, that we shared a bond of trust, or at least loyalty to the cause. But no, she had to go and fuck up everything.

"I couldn't let them kill you, Deacon. I had to get into the Institute, and he Brotherhood offered me the best chance. I did as I was ordered. I won't ask you for forgiveness. I don't deserve it, I know that. That's not why I came,"

"Why the fuck did you come, _Nora_? To rub it in a little deeper? Laugh at me that I fell for you and you betrayed me? To finish me off yourself?" I was screaming by that point, pacing in my cell. If there was anything to throw, I would have whipped it as hard as I could at her. Lucky for her, or us both maybe, but the guards had removed everything that morning. All I had to channel my rage into was my words.

"No," she said quietly. "I came to tell you that I can't release you yet, but you'll be free soon. When my mission's complete and the Institute is gone, you will be let go. I came here to give you the courtesy of telling you everything myself, and to see you one more time in case I don't make it." 

"Well, take a good, long fucking look," I hissed back. "Because I never want to see you again. You _are_ a fucking monster." 

The words didn't sound like mine. The look Nora gave me wasn't one I'd seen before, at least not one directed at me. Her eyes usually danced; they were happy and bright. Right then, she looked dead, lifeless, empty. She caught my eye for the first time that day, holding it for a moment. She was completely defeated and broken. I'm sure she wanted to say something in response, but she silently nodded and left.

It wasn't until the door closed behind her that I felt the smallest bit of regret. I knew she was gone, and part of me was glad for it. But a small, nagging voice in the back of my mind screamed at me and missed her already. I knew I'd never see her again. I'd never see Glory, or Des, or Tom either, and I wasn't sure which hurt more: her betrayal, the deaths of my friends, the destruction of our cause, or losing the only thing I had left to hang onto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were nearly at the end folks.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon tells how he heard that Sole took out the Institute, and how he was released.

Well, she respected my wishes to the _letter_. I never did see her again.

The morning after she left, there was a creased note beside my bed. It had been folded and unfolded many times, the paper yellowed and the corner stained with blood. I recognized the stationary as one often used at HQ, the same type that I had so often used in correspondence. Carefully, I opened the packet that was crisply folded in four. I observed the large, yellowed note that I held in my hands, and I remembered writing it in a messy hand three years ago. I remembered how I felt smug then, wanting to teach a lesson I had never learned myself:  _you can't trust everyone._

I had never called her out on it, never got a chance to explain what I meant, but the fact it was _her_ that locked me up shows me I never learned my own lesson. I didn't watch what she was doing. I wanted to see her as a lover first and a warrior second. I wanted to ignore how her missions with Danse increased in frequency. I wanted to believe that she tripped and fell in love with me too. 

I glared at the ugly stained note. Stained with vitriol and time, and I wished I had never met her. I gingerly smoothed out the creases and wrinkles left by time. Under my scrawled note, in a much neater hand, was an addition. The ink was new, and darker than any I had ever seen before. I'm pretty sure my hands were shaking, but all I know for certain is that my heart was racing as I read the last words I ever heard from Sole:

 _John,_ it started. How she found out my name from a lifetime ago is beyond me. I never told anyone, not even Dez. Needless to say, that's _not_ my name anymore, or I wouldn't have _told you._ _Anyway_ , the note.

 

_John,_

_We write our own stories. Whether or not they are true is up to you._

_Sole_

 

It didn't escape my notice that she signed it with her old codename. Maybe she wanted me to remember her as a Railroad agent who loved her more than life. Or, maybe she would have rather been that person instead of one who _murders_ the people she calls her friends. I knew one thing, she was right. There was no more room in my life for lies-- not hers and not my own. I made a promise to myself then that I would never lie if I didn't have to. I mean, why bother? I had no one left to protect.

It was another two days before I was released. The guard was solemn when he opened the gate, apologizing for his role in everything, that is to say, caging me like an _animal_. He assured me that I was safe as long as I didn't make trouble, and that my weapons and armour were waiting for me at the front gate. I asked him if the Institute was gone; if Nora had succeeded, and if she was alive. Of course, he didn't really answer me. He didn't know.

I went back to HQ, looking for the remains of my friends. I wanted to ask PAM to locate Nora so I could put a bullet in her beautiful face, right after I buried the closest thing I had to a family. But, PAM was destroyed along with the rest of them. Much like PAM was stripped for parts, my friends were stripped down to their underclothes. Every piece of valuable Kevlar armor was gone, everything that wasn't bolted down was gone, now that I think about it. And I try _not_ to. The whole crypt smelled like, well, a crypt. The odor of blood and death stretched around me, it was so strong I didn't stay to look for anything valuable on the servers.

The news was that the Institute was destroyed in a major blast. Another nuke, maybe, but I _knew_ it was her.

Nobody knew if Nora made it out, let alone where she was. The last anyone knew was that she had been down _there_ when it went off. So, I searched. I checked Diamond City, asking around town if anyone had seen her. I heard her voice in my dreams. I saw her face in every dark corner. I wanted to kill her, to make her suffer like I suffered. I couldn't go to Sanctuary. There was a good likelihood I was a wanted man there, so I went to the next best spot: the Castle.

Everywhere I looked on my journey reminded me of her. At first, I hated her. By the time I was halfway there, I had seen a hundred memories of us around corners and lurking in the corners: the first time I heard her laugh, when she told me about Nate, how sexy she looked after a fierce battle, the first time I heard her weep in her sleep, and when she told me she didn't think less of me for murdering my old gang.

Then it hit me. I was judging her harshly when I had done the samething she had. While we both did what we did for different reasons on the surface, fundamentally our reasons were the same. I avenged Barbara out of love; and she avenged Shaun for the same reason. I don't regret what I did, but I know Sole. She may not regret the outcome, but she was probably drowning in guilt. 

By the time I reached the Castle, I had decided I had judged her unfairly, without her even trying to defend herself. In fact, she drove the point home. She tried to tell me she was unworthy of me.  _Me._ I wish I could've told her that it was I that was unworthy. I was quick to judge, quicker to anger, I had been jealous and possessive of her attentions. I always dreamed of what I wanted with her, assuming it would be a reality, but I never even asked her what she wanted for herself. 

 _Fuck_. I needed to find her.

I approached the Castle, finding Preston waiting for me, his arms crossed over his chest, an eyebrow raised in surprise. I had my hands up in surrender as two Minutemen searched me, removing my pistol and grenades. Of course, I still had more weapons, but I wasn't going to tell _them_ that --  Cardinal Rule remember? Preston approached, his face stoic again,  but that cat was out of the bag: he didn't think I was alive.

"Deacon," he greeted.

"Preston, old buddy! How's it hanging?"

"I see you're.... well. Why are you here?" He asked. Straight to the point, gotta love it.

"Oh, I thought I would come by and chat--"

"Cut the crap, Deacon." Preston growled as MacCready strolled out to us.

"Fair enough," I muttered. "I'm looking for Sole-- Nora. I need to speak with her."

"She isn't here. We don't know where she is."

"And, even if we did," MacCready interjected, "There's no way we'd tell you."

He had no reason to trust me, and every reason to think I'd want her dead. Up until a few hours ago, my grief dictated that I _did_ want her dead. But, now my head was a safe place to live again, and I was determined to find her, whatever the cost.

"Look, MacCready," I sighed. "I didn't come her and give up my weapons to pick a fight. I came to talk, to figure things out. Please, just tell me where she is."

"I wish I could." He said, not quite defeated, but not quite angry. "We haven't seen Sole since she took down the Institute. She... we don't know if she made it out in time. She didn't meet with us afterwards. Danse said he thought he saw her get out, and we never did find a body, but we didn't find much." He confessed sadly. I could see his sorrow was genuine, but I felt like something was missing.

"And Danse? Where is he?"

MacCready shrugged slightly, and Preston rolled his eyes.

"Mac and Danse got into a screaming match a week ago, and no one's seen him since. He hasn't shown up in Sanctuary, but he might eventually. You know his temper." Preston held in a slight smirk, but I knew something was weird with the way he explained things. 

"And this argument-- what did it entail?" MacCready drawled. Again, Preston sighed, his eyes searching the sky as though they held the answers. 

"Apparently,  synths can have genuine feelings."

"Noooo," MacCready started. "They can't. And that was my point. Danse can follow the boss around like a lovesick puppy, and confess his feelings all he wants, but I'm not buying it. A synth is a machine, made to serve. And when I said as much, and maybe made a snide comment about him wanting to "serve" Nora, he kinda... flipped out."

"So, you're telling me that Danse is in love with Nora?" I asked Preston. He shrugged.

"He never said he loved her. Said he had confused feelings towards her. That was it. Anyway, he's been gone since."

"And so is Nora," I pointed out. "Fucking fantastic. You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you MacCready?"

MacCready kept quiet, but for the first time, I saw him wince.


	15. Chapter 15

I would  _love_ to tell you I searched them out without the faintest bit of jealousy, but I would be lying. As we established multiple times, this story is all fact. But don't hold it against me,  _I am_ just a man afterall. A devilishly handsome, suave, and sly man, but a man nonetheless. I imagined Danse pushing her up against the wall, his mouth hot on hers and his hand up her shirt. My blood boiled, and the more I imagined such things, the more determined I was. It wasn't anger; I had long since passed the stage where I felt anger towards her. It was  _fear._ I couldn't lose her to the overgrown, bigoted, monotone brute. If she didn't want me because I was an asshole, I get it. But not because Danse beat me to it. Worse, if he did something to hurt her, or if she really didn't make it out of the Institute. My final words to her were cruel, I couldn't just  _not try_ to make it right.

I did a little recon on Sanctuary, and found absolutely  _nothing._ Nada, zip, zero. I checked a few other settlements, and still found nothing. The only thing worth noting, is that not a single person had verified she was alive. They were all just as afraid than  _I_ was. Their fearless leader wasn't around to rescue them when they failed to stand up for themselves, or build new settlements and invite them to live away from the dangers of the Commonwealth. I grew irritated with their demand for a selfless hero.

After the few weeks of recon, I just happened to stumble on an old bunker that looked familiar. The turrets on the perimeter had been destroyed,  the interior had become a  _winter wonderland of dust._ I fired up the elevator, and stood off to the side in case of a prepared attack. 

When no one jammed a gun on me with the  _ding_ that accompanied the opening of the doors, I slipped inside and took it to the basement level. 

The dim room was quiet except for the hum of electricity and the subtle echoing of old plumbing. I waiting a moment before proceeding, creeping along the darkest of shadows before turning a corner and having a laser rifle jammed under my chin.

"Danse, great to see you! How you been holding up?" If you couldn't tell, I often use humor in the most _tense_ of situations.

"What are you doing here Deacon?"

"Ummm sneaking up on you was my go-to line here, but apparently, you've already watched the Broadway musical if 'how to scare the shit out of people '"

"Your weak attempts at humor are pathetic, civilian." He scowled.

"This coming from a man who never cracks a smile. You mind putting the gun down, Rambo?"

"First, tell me why you're here." He was not the type to back down, and we both knew it. I sighed dramatically. 

"I'm here looking for my pet deathclaw. It's only a baby, I named her Fluffy. She gets really aggressive when she sees me upset though-- I gotta warn ya."

"Again with the jokes. I'm going to ask you once more, then I'm going to shoot you just because you annoy the hell out of me," he warned.  He was starting to bore me anyway.

"I'm looking for Nora. She vanished after that business with the Institute." I explained in almost a whisper.

"Well, that's funny, because I haven't seen you since  _before_ that business with the Institute." He glared at me for a moment before lowering his gun and releasing his grip on my grimy t-shirt. "She isn't here. As far as I know... she never made it out."

"Then what's all that business about you confessing feelings for her?" I demanded. He stared at me like I grew a mole rat off my forehead.

"If by feelings you are implying my friendship with Knight Nora, then you would be correct; I have confessed as much. I have only the most platonic of relationships with her, and it will continue to remain that way."

"Then why is MacCready acting like it's such a big frigging deal, huh? He's a lot of things, but he isn't a liar." I shot him an icy look. The misses in his jaw were flexing,and I knew I was walking on thin ice.

"I told Nora that I felt closer to her than anyone else. She has proven herself to be a formidable warrior, a courageous leader, and an empathetic comrade. I have no romantic intentions towards her, nor she to me. She is, quite simply, the only friend I have in this world, and that upsets some people." He explained. He offered me a cigarette, and I gladly accepted, thankful for the silence that afforded me so I could think.

"I'm sorry," I finally offered as the embers reached my knuckles. Instead of words, Danse nodded and turned back to cleaning his gun. 

"You know," he said. "You never had anything to worry about. My life was the Brotherhood for so long, i forgot how to live. Knight Nora made me accept that I can dictate my own future, that I'm allowed to love. But, like you, I lost that chance during that final battle. This is the rifle I gave Nora when I recruited her. It was one of my favorite guns for a long time, but I wanted to say thank you, to repay her bravery. It's the only thing that seemed to have survived the blast. I found it about a mile away from the Crater. I keep trying to fix it, hoping she comes back, but it's been months. I think she's gone, Deacon. She wouldn't abandon everything for this long. Abandon us. Why don't you take it?" He asked, offering me the weapon. 

I examined the gun in shaking hands, imagining how Nora felt to hold its weight for the first time. Her right eye would close as she took aim lining her shot up perfectly before vaporizing her target. I turned it over, noting the care that had been placed into maintaining it.

"Did you switch any of the external pieces here, Danse?" I asked. He hook his head. "So you're saying you found this a mile from the explosion site? In near mint condition?"

"It was in good repair when I found it, yes. It possibly got tossed in the blast."

"You  _do_ realize a nuclear bomb is like 8000 degrees, right?  This gun is  _plastic._ I mean, there's a small chance it got thrown by the force of the explosion, but it's  _way more_ likely it was dropped, or left behind."

"So what are you saying?" He asked, and I looked at him in shock. The man really was a moron.

"She could be alive, Danse."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse and Deacon disagree with the current circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started a new job, so writing is becoming more difficult. Sorry for the delay. This chapter is a lead up to the reuniting of Deacon and Sole, mainly filler. I'm tired, so this is unedited. Again.

For six months, Danse helped me search for her. When he wasn't off murdering remaining synths, that is. I understood his loyalty was to his convictions, and that those convictions had him slaughtering his own, probably in an attempt to get back into the good graces of the Brotherhood. Whatever, he was helping me look for Nora when he could, and I appreciated it.

We didn't speak much, but we had developed a comfortable silence. He would set up camp while I cooked dinner for us, using recipes Nora had shown me. Rad rabbit stew was his favorite, and usually kept his self-righteous remarks to a minimum.

One day we stumbled onto a raider den, at least I  _think_ it was raiders. Danse was firing before I had a chance to case the joint, and limbs were flying before I could question them.

"Christ, Danse! You couldn't have waited until I did some recon to see what we were dealing with?" I yelled through panting breath. "We could have been killed!"

"And lose the element of surprise if they spotted us first? That was not a risk I was willing to take, civilian."

My heart was still racing from the battle, but picked up even more speed to accompany the adrenaline with rage.

"Civilian? Danse, you're a fucking civilian too, in case you forgot! Wake up and stop living in some military fantasy!" I shouted. He glared at me for a moment, his mouth twisted into a snarl. His fists clenched, the massive power armour that Nora gifted him glinting in the eerie moonlight as it filtered through the sporadic clouds.

"At least in my fantasy, Deacon, I'm not pretending Halen is going to magically raise from the dead! I miss Nora too, she was my only real friend, but she's gone. You need to accept that and start doing something with your life!" He snapped back.

"Says the guy who will live forever. Don't be pissed at me because you didn't have the balls to say anything to her before Nora convinced her to run to Rhys. You're a fucking adult, stop sulking like a damn child! We have proof Nora's alive, and I'm not going to stop until we find her!"

Danse hung his head, not quite in apology, but perhaps awkward defeat. He shook it a few times as he swirled the Gwinnet Lager he scooped from the Raiders' stash.

"We didn't find proof, Deacon," he said quietly. "We found a discarded weapon. She could have sold it before the battle. She could have thrown it away before she even thought about attacking the Institute. I wanted to believe she was alive, maybe just taking a break, but be honest with yourself: even if she needed time away from the Brotherhood or the Minutemen, do you honestly think she would leave without saying goodbye to her friends?" He sighed heavily and gulped the remaining beer. "I think it would be best if we went our separate ways in the morning. I haven't even shown my respects to Haylen's family, because you had me so convinced. I can't keep chasing a ghost. I just can't. I really hope you find her, and that she's ok, but this is it for me. My search ends today."

I stared at him slack-jawed in disbelief. I never took him for a defeatist, yet here he was, eyes sorrowful and brow creased in worry. 

"Fine! If you want to give up on her, you go right ahead, but I won't. She never gave up on you, and you turn your back on her. I won't do it. If I never find her, at least I'll know I tried." I said sadly. He wouldn't meet my gaze, and I realized it then: he was ashamed, but steadfast despite my insults.

We ate our dinners that night in silence, drinking bourbon quietly as darkness set in. I offered to take first watch, and when I finally settled into my sleeping bag, fear sliced through my mind, Danse's words making me doubt that I was right. I slept fitfully through the night; Danse never woke me for my watch. I woke when the morning sun warmed my face, alone.

Danse had left sometime during his watch. He wasn't the type to shirk his duty, so I'm sure he was somewhere nearby, _watching_ from the shadows until I woke and it was safe for him to book it. Reality set in that this was going to get a whole lot harder, and more lonely, but I didnt mind. I  _would_ find her, even without his help. And when I did, I would never be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always welcome and are the lifeblood of any fanfic writer!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps forward in the setting to the Third Rail, where, you'll remember, Deacon started telling his story.

"And that's really it. I looked for another six months on my own, but I never found our intrepid heroine. Maybe Danse had it right all along. All I know is, she deserved better. Better than the Commonwealth. Better than me. If she _is_ alive, I hope she figured that out. She saved us all in the end; outsmarting the Institute by playing all sides against eachother. In the end she made a choice, just like I did way back when, but her decision also ended up saving us all. I have no doubt the Institute wouldn't have stopped until we were all their slaves," Deacon said with a snarl.

"It still hurts when I think about the friends I lost. I guess I never _really_ grieved for them, but in this day and age, we seldom get the time to do those things. If I had all the time in the world, I'd never finish grieving. It hurt like hell when I lost Barbara, and it hurt to lose the Railroad and what it stood for. But now, the Brotherhood has moved on and the only people I have left to hide the synth's from are citizens, and the bigotry the Brotherhood has left behind. But losing Nora... if I had all the time in the world, there wouldn't be enough to grieve for that woman and how I treated her. I let her go. The last time I saw her, I looked at her with the hate I felt for myself; for everything I had become, for my own hypocrisy. I never got to apologize. But in truth, I never stopped loving her, not even through my anger. I hope wherever she is, she knows that."

The crowd surrounding Deacon had grown considerably, and most listening with awed silence. Most were satisfied with his tale, leaving him caps in his overturned hat that was lain on the bar before leaving for the night. A few remained; those that were finishing up their pitchers of Gwinnet, or those too drunk to walk to their rooms. Most that remained were lovestruck kids, or old folks looking to live vicariously through someone else's love story.

"So... the woman who saved the Commonwealth was kind of a bitch?" A young blonde man asked, his hat just shielding the bright glow from Magnolia's closed set.

"Excuse me?" Deacon snapped.

"I mean, you poured your heart out to that woman, saved her ass more times than you're probably willing to share, forgave her for killing your friends, and she just... never reciprocated?"

Deacon thought about how best to answer him, the alcohol hindering his best judgment, but nonetheless, he wanted to speak the truth.

"That's the way the cookie crumbles sometimes, kid. Life is strange like that, but it happens. I'll never know now, I guess." 

The man snorted and chuckled into his drink, his thoughts seemingly on his own misfortunes in love. He tossed a cap in the hat and turned to leave, before stopping and tossing in a handful more.

"I hope the caps stretch further than the relationship did," he offered quietly before leaving Deacon to his thoughts.

 _Me too kid,_ he thought.  _Me too._

A lone old man remained at the bar, and tapped his shot glass on the counter, signalling to Charlie to bring him another. Deacon nodded when Charlie offered him some too.

"That was a rough bit to hear, mate." Charlie said sympathetically. Deacon nodded.

"Not as tough as it was to say it."

"Why d'ya keep rollin' in an' tellin' it? Aven't ya gots better rubbish to do with yo' nights?" The Mister Handy asked.

"Not really. Besides, the caps _are_ good. Everyone wants to hear about the pathetic agent who broke his own rules and fell for the Queen Bee of the Commonwealth, who may or may not be alive. It gives people hope for their own lives."

"Put it on my tab Charlie, and the next one too," the old man spit out in a gruff voice.

"Why the generosity my friend?" Deacon asked suspiciously. Any man who ever bought him a drink either wanted to rob him or get his help robbing someone else. He was no stranger to questionable activities, but there was a line, and he wasn't about to cross it.

"Ahh, I'm a sucker for a good story," he waved Charlie away and downed his drink. "So, is it true? Ya still love her then?"

"Yep, but I guess old habits die hard." Deacon smirked at the man and downed his whiskey and followed it with a shake of his head.

"Yeah. I lost my ol' lady too. I know what you mean."

A sombre silence fell between the two as they reminisced of days past, of stolen kisses and laughter. 

"Think she's alive?" The old man asked finally.

"In truth? No. I hope she is, but it's hard to believe. I doubt I'll ever know if she survived, or if she ever loved me." The sadness in Deacon's voice stretched across the room.

"You're not giving yourself enough credit," a feminine voice rang out. Deacon looked to the back of the room, seeing a small figure approaching. "I don't like your version. I think you should let me tell it."

Her face came into the light, dark eyes and hair accentuating her small features. Deacon's heart leapt, but all he could muster with his mouth agape was a whisper.

"Nora."

Her name tumbled from his lips like a prayer, his knees began to shake, and his feet were rooted to the dusty floor.

"Hello Deacon," she smiled shyly, her face the same except for the addition of a long and dark scar on the left. She walked over to him slowly, each step silent as she went, and stood less than a foot away. "In my version, I come back and tell you I'm so sorry. I tell you that I've been trying to atone for my mistakes. And most importantly, in my version, I come back to tell you that I'm deeply, madly, and hopelessly in love with you."

Deacon could only stare for a moment while the reality of her words sank in, before his lips crashed on to hers in a heated embrace. He withdrew and held her to him for a long while, tears streaming down both their faces. She mumbled apologies against his chest as she wept. In turn he comforted and quieted her, soothing her by rubbing small circles on her back. Finally, he pulled away and looked at her, running his thumb lovingly over the gouge on her cheek, noting that it stretched the entirety of her face, from brow to chin.

"A fog crawler got me. I managed to put him down eventually. Longfellow saved my life," she said as she gestured to the gruff old man who bought him the drink.

"What the hell is a fog crawler?" Deacon asked, eyebrows raised. "I've seen you take on a deathclaw with not even a scratch to show for it."

"Yeah... long story. I'm OK though."

"Sole, it's been two years. I've looked everywhere for you; where've you been?"

"I was ashamed, Deacon. I couldn't face what I'd done-- to Shaun, to you, to Glory and Tom. I needed to end Shaun, and I wasn't going to leave it to chance. But once everything was done, I had no purpose. I had to face myself, to look myself in the mirror and be who you thought I was. I wanted to die, Deak. I knew what I did was not the way a leader handles things, and the Commonwealth deserved someone to put them first. But I couldn't be that person for them, for you. I needed to find myself again, to make amends with my conscience and stop being the monster I became.

"Nick gave me a heads up before I left for the Institute. There was a place for synths where they could be free and whole, without hiding. I went there trying to atone by saving one girl, and I ended up again having to choose. This time though, I brought peace. I'm not proud of how I achieved it, but at least it's something. Even though I earned the respect of the civilians, I still knew I couldn't stay. I know you told me you never wanted to see me again, but I had to see you. I couldn't go another day without making it right with the one person that mattered-- even if you didn't care. I needed to tell you everything. 

"And now you know. Can you.... I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but can we... can we start over?" She asked, her body seeming lighter since her confession. Deacon smiled and kissed her softly, savoring the pillow-soft feel of her lips. He pulled away and held his forehead to hers, grinning at the joy he felt for her unexpected return. 

"No," he whispered, and her face fell. "Starting over is for people who can't accept each other as they are, and for events as they happened. I love you, Nora. I never stopped, even when I was furious, and I'm sorry I said horrible stuff to you. Start over with the rest of the world if you need to, but not with me. We just need to be right here, right now." Deacon sighed and laced his fingers with hers. She gave him the biggest smile he had ever seen, and wrapped her arms around his waist, tears of joy streaming down her face.

"I never want to be anywhere else." She said as she held him, feeling his heart beating against her cheek.

"Oy!" Charlie yelled from behind the bar. "Payin' customers only. Buy something or get out!"

Giggling, Nora dropped a small fortune in caps on the bar. 

"A room, Charlie."

"That''s a bit much for a room," Deacon smirked as she pulled him to the back of the bar.

"It's for the week."

"Hey! Hey! Where'm I gonna go?" Demanded a drunk Longfellow. "At least get me a bottle of whiskey! Are you listening? I know you can hear me, ya goddamn Mainlanders!"


	18. Epilogue

Deacon wiped his brow with the back of his hand as the setting sun cast his shadow onto the mounds of soil he was tilling. It was late summer; soon the corn would be harvested aplenty, the gourds plump and rich tasting when Nora baked them with scavenged cinnamon and cracked black pepper. She was a far better cook than he was, and she now had the time to prepare delicious meals. Cram was a thing of the past since they slipped into obscurity. 

He watched her hang laundry to dry as she hummed to herself. She had a way of adding grace to everything she did, be it hanging laundry, firing a rifle, or making love. Long gone were the days he could call her clumsy and naive. She had saved the Commonwealth, found herself, and came back to him. Despite his frequent urging that she deserved more than he could ever give her, she would only smile and remind him that he had given her a purpose, and loved her unconditionally despite her own demons. She would kiss his cheek and remind him that he was worth loving too.

Her wide smile brought Deacon from his pondering back to the present.

"Didn't you hear me?" She called, her hand going out to rest on her lower back as she stretched out her round belly. Deacon grinned in response, and she gave a mock sigh of exasperation. "I said, go get cleaned up for dinner. Mac will be by soon, and he's bringing his new lady friend."

Deacon dusted off his hands on a ratty towel, watching her intently. She really was beautiful, and he was glad he married her. He wrapped his hands around her waist, memorizing every curve in her rapidly growing womb. He nuzzle the back of her neck, sending her into a fit of giggles as she swatted him away.

"Daddy, I was playing on my bed and I fell off and hurt my knee!" Cried a voice from deep within their wooden cabin.

"Duty calls," she laughed as he let out a small groan.

"You know, one day," he said, trailing his fingers down her neck and kissing the small space between neck and shoulder, "I'm going to tell her everything-- about her brave mama, how we became a family, and how she came to be."

She eyed him with something akin to sadness, her hands landing instinctually on her small belly.

"One day we'll live in a world where it won't matter. Abby will grow up knowing we loved her as much as we'll love this baby. We're a family, and I pity anyone who tries to break us apart." She kissed him lightly and smiled, though he saw tears brimming in her eyes. 

"I won't let it come to that," he grinned slyly at her as he led her into the cabin. "I like the quiet life we have now: reading Proust, raising Abby, making babies, and going whole days without slaughtering anyone. Although, I still think Fluffy needs reconsideration. Abby needs a pet."

"We're not going to get a baby deathclaw, " she laughed, her voice lilting like wind chimes.

"See, you _say_ that, " he said as he washed his hands for dinner. "But I know what you _really_ mean is that you'll need more time to think it over. Just like when Dogmeat knocked up Grasshopper and you said you didn't want another dog.  Now look: we have _four_." 

Nora laughed and threw a warm dinner roll at him, which he caught and began to chew loudly. She swatted at him again as she went to check on Abigail, leaving him with the smell of warm summer stew and fresh baked rolls.

Lucky? He was definitely lucky. He was even starting to believe that maybe there was a higher power, because he wasn't anything less than blessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Thanks for reading my fic, I hope you enjoyed it!


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